


Again

by whiskeyandspite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Brat, Consensual Sex, Flirting, Fondling, Groping, Lolita kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Young Will, piano lessons, sassiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: “That was very good, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and Will shivered at the praise like he hadn’t ever before. He could feel Hannibal’s voice all the way through his bones. “Now, do it again.”Will is a petulant teenager who absolutely does not want to learn to play piano. Hannibal is going to teach him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 53
Kudos: 462





	Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pensee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/gifts).



> I have no excuses for this, blame Ivy. PWP coz why the fuck not.

Will hated the piano. He had no idea why his mother had demanded he learn, but he hated the thing. He thought often of opening it up and smashing it to pieces but he knew he’d get a strapping for it and that, Will hated even more.

Instead, he made it his goal to drive away every tutor his mother could find to teach him. He would play discordant tones, refuse to play at all, scream endlessly and kick his feet. He was an absolute terror and few had patience with him.

But his mother had promised a new tutor, someone who would know how to control Will properly, someone she was  _ certain _ would get the desired results from her wayward, petulant boy. At this point Will was certain they had entered a battle of wills, it was the principle of the thing rather than the desire for her son to learn an instrument. She needed to assert herself as the one who ran the household, who had control over those in it.

Single parents, Will thought, were truly awful things.

But he waited, as he’d been told, near the piano for the new tutor to arrive. 

He’d been told to dress well and to be polite, so Will had found a pair of shorts he hadn’t worn for two years, just-too-tight and much-too-short, and wore a crumpled tee shirt, and no socks or shoes. The man, when he arrived, was in a three-piece suit in such outlandish patterns and colors that Will actually snorted.

“I’ve never seen a piano tutor dressed like that,” Will told him, crossing skinny arms over his chest. The other just lifted an eyebrow.

“And I’ve never had such a poorly dressed pupil.” he spoke with an accent and had a nice voice, at least. The last tutor had spoken to Will like he’d been five years old and encouraged him to truly believe in himself in order to play the piano. This man gave Will a brief once-over and asked, instead: “Do you play better than you present yourself, I wonder?”

“I really don’t,” Will admitted, hooking one foot behind the other and resting his hip against the piano stool. “And I don’t want to learn, either.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it?” Will wrinkled his nose. “I’ll never be a piano player. I have better things to do.”

“I think you’re coming at this the wrong way,” the man said, gesturing to the piano stool. Will shrugged. The other sat down. “Consider it less an education in musical performance, and more a way to learn skills such as posture, patience, dedication, and discipline.”

Will snorted again. “You can’t discipline me.”

The man’s smile pulled thin and pleased at that, for some reason, and Will swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. For a moment neither said anything, then the tutor gestured to the seat beside him.

“Take a seat, Will. We will start with scales.”

“I know scales.”

“Then show me.”

Will’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. He didn’t want to play scales, but he wanted to push that smile from the guy’s face, to show him that he could be petulant and brilliant at once. He groaned, displeased and immature, and walked around the piano stool to drop himself next to his tutor. He gave the man a sidelong glare and lifted his left hand to set to the hated keys.

By the time he’d run through the scales he could do in his sleep, the man was watching Will closely, eyes on his hands, eyes not on his hands - Will could feel them like fingertips tickling his skin. He curled a foot beneath his butt, pulling the already tight fabric of his too-small shorts tighter over his cock before looking up.

“How’d I do?”

“Your posture is atrocious,” the man replied. “And your fingernails are dirty. The scales themselves are adequate, but one must be a true imbecile to get those wrong.”

Will blushed and narrowed his eyes again. The man was unmoved.

“Again,” he said, “straighten up, both feet on the floor, and both hands on the keys, please.”

Will made an exasperated sound and made a show of shoving both feet to the floor, wriggling about on his stool as though to settle himself before putting both hands to the piano and pressing down. Discordant noise and impertinence. But instead of pushing to stand, calling Will all sorts of terrible things, claiming he would never return, the man hummed a single note under his breath and looked at Will.

“Again.”

* * *

Will’s mother had somehow convinced Hannibal - because he had a ridiculous name to go with his ridiculous clothes - to tutor Will three times a week. Because it was summer, and there was no school for Will to escape to, he had no choice but to go along with it. Sometimes his mother would be home while Will was forced to sit straight and keep his eyes forward and his chin parallel the floor, and other times she was out.

It was easier to act out when she was home, because there was someone to act for; Hannibal seemed entirely unmoved by Will’s histrionics. He bore them with silence and look of complete detachment, and nothing Will said or did could shatter that calm cool veneer.

But when they were alone, Hannibal was a lot more free with his criticism. He wasn’t cruel, as such; Will had a thick skin and could put up with a lot, but he was… difficult to tune out.

“Posture, Will.” he corrected, for the umpteenth time that day, and Will cursed, shoving back from the piano and turning to glare at the man.

“I don’t  _ care _ about posture, Hannibal! I don’t care about the piano, I don’t care about any of it!”

“And yet, you will do as I say,” Hannibal replied. Will snorted. 

“Or what?”

“Nothing you’d enjoy.”

Will still wore inappropriate clothes to his lessons. Sometimes it was the too-small shorts, sometimes he had no shirt at all, claiming it was just too hot to properly dress that day. Hannibal was always tightly done up in his suits. He made Will think of an old-school principal at some gaudy boy’s academy, always prim and proper, always well spoken and outwardly respected, but boning his students behind closed doors.

He’d thought of Hannibal sometimes when it was too hot to sleep, a hand lazy between his legs as he stroked himself and imagined commanding the man to his knees to take Will’s cock between his lips and suck him off. Sometimes he came from that, but not often. For some reason debasing Hannibal in his sexual fantasies didn’t do much for Will. it was when he imagined himself being debased that he came hard enough to numb the tips of his toes.

“Posture is important, Will, for self-carriage, self-confidence. For breathing, at its most basic level. Sitting as you are you will cause yourself no end to trouble with back pain in the future.”

Will groaned, a deliberately childish sound, and dropped his head back between his shoulders.

“It’s  _ hard _ .”

“Yes, because you’ve trained yourself to sit improperly. Once you learn how you should be sitting it will come naturally to you as sprawling does now.”

“I don’t know how.”

Hannibal made a soft sound in his throat, a considering thing, and moved to stand up from the piano stool they shared. For a moment Will thought he’d finally annoyed him enough to get gone, but when he felt hands on his shoulders he gasped and tried to squirm away.

“Be still, terrible boy, I’m not hurting you.”

In truth, Will was more shocked than anything else. Hannibal  _ wasn’t _ hurting him, but he was touching him, and he’d never touched Will before, not even to correct his hands on the keys. His long fingers dug into Will’s muscles enough to shift him but not cause harm, as he pulled Will’s shoulders back.

“Just like that,” he said, keeping his hands on Will’s shoulders a moment longer. “That is how you should keep your back when you sit with me, Will, straight and poised.”

“I’ll get tired.”

“You will until you practice enough not to.” Hannibal reminded him. “Now. Beethoven, Will. Again.”

“I can’t concentrate with you standing like that.”

“You drop your shoulders if I don’t hold them up, so you will learn to put up with it. Again, Will.”

Will sighed deeply and put his hands to the keys with a frown. He played the piece they’d been struggling through for the past week and dropped his hands again.

“Can you let me go now?”

“Can I?” Hannibal asked in that infuriating way of his. “I can’t trust you to keep your posture, Will, and I want that piece perfect before I leave.”

“I want it perfect before I leave,” Will mimicked. He made a truly embarrassing sound when Hannibal’s hands soothed over his shoulders and down to his elbows and he pushed the boy closer to his hated instrument.

“That was rude, Will,” Hannibal said as he moved to sit behind the boy, legs spread around Will’s. “I don’t appreciate rudeness. Now, hands to the keys.”

“Hannibal, what -”

“Hands on the keys, Will,” Hannibal repeated, waiting for the boy to obey. He set one of his own hands to Will’s stomach, spreading his fingers there from groin to sternum. “Keep your breathing even and steady, in time with the music. Follow mine. And,” he wrapped his other arm around Will’s front, shoulder to shoulder, pulling the boy’s spine taut in a lovely, pleasing line. “Keep your shoulders back.”

Will, in his shock, did as he was told. He breathed slowly as Hannibal did, making his wide hand rise and fall. He played the piece perfectly, his shoulders held back by Hannibal’s arm, and when he was finished he didn’t take his hands from the keys.

He could feel Hannibal’s breath soft against the back of his neck, could feel the buttons of Hannibal’s jacket pressing back against his spine. Could feel -

“That was very good, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and Will shivered at the praise like he hadn’t ever before. He could feel Hannibal’s voice all the way through his bones. “Now, do it again.”

* * *

Posture became a particular problem for the two of them. Will was adamant that there was no way he could possibly keep his posture unless Hannibal was helping him. The boy was a talented manipulator; from the way he dressed to the way he spoke. Hannibal could see that while Will had genuinely no interest in playing the piano, he was rather good at it already. His mother was intolerable, the kind of parent who demanded her child be forced to perfection, he couldn’t blame Will his rebellion

More and more, Hannibal took notice of the way Will would deliberately come to lessons with his hair wet from a dip in the pool, in clothing too tight for his already lithe form. More and more, Hannibal took notice of the sweet smell of arousal that clung to the boy like perfume. The work of his own hand, no doubt, before plodding his way down the stairs to the piano for his lesson.

And so, he indulged the young thing’s petulant demands he ‘help’ with his posture when his mother wasn’t in the house to hover and comment on his progress. He indulged his own desires to hold the boy close and feel him shiver and tense beneath his hands. Will was a beautiful boy, eyelashes long and cheeks perpetually warm with blush, and he knew just the effect he had on others.

It made it all the more rewarding to tease him.

“Will.”

“What?”

“You’re making inexcusable mistakes. You’re better than this.”

“I’m bored with this,” Will huffed, trying to curl his spine and slouch forward, finding himself caught in Hannibal’s embrace instead. He’d started doing that more and more, as well, Hannibal had noticed. “This piece does nothing for me.”

“Does music have to do something for you for it to deserve your respect?”

“I’d rather be inspired than forced,” Will shot back. He felt Hannibal’s hum rather than heard it and wriggled back against him, a very deliberate motion he  _ knew _ the man could feel. Pleased when Hannibal didn’t immediately reply, Will made himself comfortable back against him. He’d worn his little shorts again, enjoying the way he could feel Hannibal through them considering they were obscenely thin, and kicked his feet against the carpet.

“Inspiration comes in many forms,” Hannibal admitted after a while, turning his nose against Will’s curls. The boy squirmed back against him more, tempting, sinful creature that he was. With a sigh, Hannibal slid his hand from Will’s stomach to between his legs instead, cupping his little cock and relishing the gasp of surprise the action drew. He smiled when Will opened his legs wider and arched his back to press into Hannibal’s palm and rewarded the boy with a gentle squeeze. “As does reward. Play it again for me, Will -”

“But -”

“And do it without error,” Hannibal continued, deliberately fingering the boy through his little shorts, feeling Will’s cock fill quickly with blood. “And I’ll consider rewarding good behavior.”

Will whined, needy and impatient, and Hannibal removed his hand entirely, returning it to the boy’s stomach without a word. He breathed in the sweat and arousal and nervous desire and hummed expectantly until Will put his hands on the keys.

He played, and he played well, no errors and no trouble with pacing. 

How curious.

Hannibal waited for Will to be finished, for him to release the keys and expectantly spread his legs before rewarding him as promised with another deliberate rub of the heel of his hand down Will’s barely covered cock.

“Good boy.”

“Hannibal -”

“Hush,” he said, turning his nose deliberately into the boy’s hair and breathing him in as he stroked faster, letting his eyes close as Will whimpered and squirmed against him. The boy was exquisite; untouched and innocent and oh so needy. He brought a hand up to tangle in Hannibal’s hair and he let him, parting his lips to kiss behind Will’s ear as he rubbed teasing circles against the damp head of Will’s cock.

“Oh -!” soft thighs squeezed together as Will trembled, and Hannibal dropped his free hand to spread him open again, thumbing the head of Will’s cock as his fingers massaged over the thick vein, down to Will’s balls, a little further back.

Will bit his lip and whimpered, while body shuddering, fingers painfully tugging Hannibal’s hair as he released into his pants, jerking motions that spread his seed against the inside of his shorts. Hannibal could feel it beginning to seep through before he pulled his hand away.

Will was breathless and heavy against him, trembling and flushed. Hannibal allowed him to rest back against him and took his time breathing in the decadent scent of his boy in pleasure before returning his hands to their usual positions against Will’s body.

“Again, Will.”

“What?” he laughed, breathless. “I can’t play right now, I can barely see straight.”

“That’s a pity,” Hannibal murmured, allowing himself to press his lips to Will’s pulse at his throat, just a ghost of a kiss. “If that’s how you take your rewards, you won’t get them again.”

“No!” Will wriggled about, setting his hands to the keys again, catching a few wrong ones before he found the proper hand position. “No, no I’ll play. I’ll play it again.”

“No mistakes, Will,” Hannibal reminded him. Against him, the boy shivered.

“No, Sir,” he agreed.

* * *

As the summer progressed, Will got much better at the piano. He started to practice between his lessons, keeping his posture perfect, his hands careful on the keys where once he would bang cruelly at them. 

His mother thought he had finally learned some sense, had finally realized that ‘mother knows best’. She no longer stayed home for his lessons, trusting that he would continue to improve without her hovering presence. And she was right, he did get better. But it had nothing to do with his respect for her. It had nothing to do with her at all.

“Hannibal -”

“Again, Will.”

Will whimpered, lip between his teeth and eyes closed as his cheeks flooded with heat. For a moment he merely trembled, but then he obeyed. Hands to the keys, starting the piece they were working on that week from the beginning, no longer looking at the notes. He sat up straight, back gracefully arched, shoulders back. He played as though he were practicing for an entrance exam to Julliard; dedicated, emotionally invested, passionate and true. 

When he was finished, his little hands immediately fell from the instrument to between his legs, tangling in Hannibal’s hair as his teacher took his cock back into his mouth and sucked. Will’s toes curled, head falling back in pleasure as his voice pulled tight and high.

“Han-nibal, I’m really close, oh -”

“You know the rules, Will. Not until I say.”

“Yes, Sir, not until you say,” Will replied, words tripping over each other. Hannibal took him entirely into his mouth and Will gasped, trying to close his legs as his balls tightened, drew up -

“Again, Will,”

“No, Hannibal, please,” he sobbed, clinging to the man. “Please, please, I’m so close,”

“I know you are, sweet boy, I can taste you. And I want to hear that piece again, Will, right now.”

Will bit his lip and whined, but then he nodded, jerking quick motions before blinking his eyes open. When he met Hannibal’s eyes, the man smiled, and Will’s blush deepened.

“Just as before,” Hannibal reminded him, kissing softly to the inside of Will’s trembling thigh. “No mistakes. And spread those legs wider for me, let me see you properly.”

Will nodded again, helpless, and did as he was told. When he finished the piece, fingers trembling over the keys, Hannibal swallowed him down and brought the boy to sobbing orgasm.

Will no longer sprawled over the piano waiting for Hannibal to show up to their lessons. Now he waited impatiently by the door once his mother had gone, listening for the sound of Hannibal’s car in the drive. Often, Hannibal would greet Will with a smile, a hand against his cheek for the boy to nuzzle. Sometimes, he allowed the eager young thing to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press inexpert lips to his own.

But only if he had played well the night before. Only then.

As summer drew to a close, Will seemed to grow frantic as every lesson ended.

_ Can’t you stay longer? _ He’d beg.  _ Just a little longer, I’ll play for you, anything you like, Hannibal. _

Sweet thing.

He was truly growing to be quite the little maestro, now that he’d set his mind to actually practicing. He responded so well to patience and rewards, Hannibal was almost sad to have this short term commitment of his come to an end.

More and more his boy was going out of his way to impress him, to make himself memorable and interesting. As though Hannibal didn’t think of him daily, as though Hannibal didn’t imagine taking him in every way possible already.

One afternoon Hannibal received a call from Will’s mother, apologizing profusely that she had been called into an important meeting at work, and could he possibly stay a little longer after Will’s lesson until she came home.

“I hate leaving him alone when it gets dark,” she said, “he’s… he’s a good boy usually, but you know how easily boys his age can be corrupted, Hannibal. I really appreciate it. I will pay you for the time, of course. Will’s been aching for more lessons now that he’s realized I was right about the piano, and it would do him good.”

How could Hannibal refuse? When his boy was  _ aching _ for more lessons and was so easily corrupted?

He arrived as always, but found that his boy wasn’t at the door to greet him. He let himself in, took his time stepping into the seemingly empty house. He didn’t call for Will, just listened for him. The house was new, two-storied, and hardly made sounds outside of human manipulation. And there, right there, the sound of gentle footfalls above him, moving to the landing, towards the stairs.

Hannibal lifted his eyes to the staircase, but didn’t approach it, and watched Will’s bare legs appear in his line of sight. But unlike other times, when the very tops of Will’s thighs were covered by swimming trunks of shorts, the boy was entirely bare as he moved down the stairs.

Hannibal swallowed.

“Mom said she’d be out til fuck knows when tonight,” Will said, setting his hands to the railing and leaning over it, pushed up on his toes. “And that you’d be  _ babysitting _ until she got home.”

Hannibal hummed, blinking slowly at the temptation before him. Will grinned, fingers caught on the railing as he rocked back. He lifted one hand to crook his finger at the man, eyes narrowed in mischief.

“Come here.”

“Will?”

“We have the house to ourselves,” Will repeated, “until it gets dark. That’s at least three hours, maybe four. And she’s always late. Always.”

“You have a lesson.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Will told him, curling one foot behind the other in a way that was coquettish, innocent. “Because you’ve wanted to for weeks.”

Hannibal lifted his chin in challenge and Will bit his lip. He was trembling with anticipation and giddy nerves, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, over and over, bouncing on his toes,  _ waiting _ for Hannibal to chase him.

“You will play for me,” Hannibal told him, voice low as he took a step forward. “And then… perhaps.”

Will shook his head, grinning, and squeaked when Hannibal took another step before he bolted up the stairs. He was quick, too. He knew his own house, knew where to set his feet. But Hannibal… Hannibal was a hunter. Hannibal was faster.

He caught Will around the middle outside the master bedroom and lifted him, unable to hide his own smile as Will wriggled against him and laughed, bright and young, at being so easily handled.

“Let me go, Hannibal, no!” He shrieked, tucking his knees and holding against Hannibal’s arms where they supported him. “Not now, after, after I promise, I promise!”

Hannibal pretended to consider, hefting the little thing higher in his grip before kissing beneath Will’s jaw.

“Will you be good?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you play it perfectly for me?”

“Yes, Hannibal, every note!”

“And if you don’t?”

Will’s breath hitched and he tilted his head back to rest against Hannibal’s shoulder. “Then you can punish me,” he whispered, grinning when he felt Hannibal tense at the notion. He’d never had to before. Will  _ knew _ the idea would turn him on, he  _ knew _ it. Will arched back against him with a whine. 

“Please, Hannibal?”

“Terrible boy,” Hannibal sighed against him, setting Will to the floor again and letting him lead him by his tie to the master - not, he noticed, to his own bedroom. “Naughty boy,” he amended, much to Will’s delight.

As soon as they were through the door Hannibal turned Will to him and kissed him properly, catching the back of his head to hold him still with one hand as his other slid down to squeeze Will’s ass until he whined.

“Mmm Hannibal please,” Will’s eyes were closed, lips wet and parted, and Hannibal was going to eat him alive.

He ducked just enough to grasp Will’s thighs and hoist him up against him, shoving Will hard to the wall and rocking up against him, Hannibal’s clothed cock against Will’s bare one. The boy whimpered.

“I imagined,” he gasped, as Hannibal kissed down Will’s jaw, to his throat, “I imagined you fucking me. I’d stroke myself and come so hard, Hannibal.”

“How?” Hannibal asked him, teeth bared against Will’s collarbone. He bit down when Will didn’t immediately reply, and sucked a bruise to his unmarred skin. Will squirmed and laughed, rutting against Hannibal where he held him pressed firm to the wall.

“Bent over,” he admitted, moaning when Hannibal’s hands spread his ass with his hands. “Oh - bent… bent over the bed. You’d fuck me til I came then tell me… tell me I was bad for not doing as I was told.”

Hannibal chuckled, low and pleased, and yanked Will from the wall to toss him to the bed instead, catching the boy’s ankle to drag him down until his legs were over the edge of the mattress. He kissed Will’s navel, lower to his groin, lower still to tease his lips over Will’s twitching cock.

“Please fuck me,” Will begged again, trying to draw his knees up as Hannibal kept him spread open.

“I will, dear boy,” Hannibal promised him, nipping at Will’s thigh to draw that delightful squeak from him again before pressing his lips hard to the skin to suck a bruise there too. “And you won’t come, will you?”

Will shook his head back and forth against the sheets with a grin.

“No,” Hannibal agreed. “Not unless you want me to punish you,”

Will shivered at the word, and then his voice pulled high on a surprised cry when Hannibal’s tongue slipped between his cheeks to press to his entrance. “Hannibal… what -”

Hannibal didn’t answer him. He took his pleasure finally tasting his boy where he was so entirely sweet, so entirely himself. Thumbs spread Will’s cheeks, tongue speared enough to penetrate Will an inch or so and Will arched off the bed with a loud whine.

“Hannibal - oh - I can’t -”

“You will,” Hannibal pulled back to growl, nuzzling the inside of his thigh before bending to devour Will once more.

The boy was trembling by the time Hannibal moved up his body. He sobbed when Hannibal sucked a nipple between his lips and jerked up against him. He was leaking precome against Hannibal’s pants. He would leave a mark, make a mess.

When Hannibal was close enough, Will yanked him down to kiss, wrapping his legs around him to force Hannibal’s weight against him. He tugged Hannibal’s hair, tried to undo his tie with trembling, awkward fingers, and gasped when Hannibal caught his fingers in Will’s curls and bent him back to the bed.

Oh, he was lovely. Flushed and wide-eyed, freckles appearing beneath his eyes, over his nose. Young, so young.

“Turn over,” Hannibal murmured, smiling when Will closed his eyes and shuddered. “Turn over for me, lovely boy, show me what you imagined.”

Will nodded quickly, hands catching the sheets as he wriggled beneath Hannibal to press his belly to the edge of the bed, toes to the carpet beneath. He arched up, pushing his round little bottom up against Hannibal’s crotch and groaned when Hannibal set his palm against it to keep him in that position.

“Spread wider for me,” Hannibal told him, and Will happily obliged, spreading his legs obscenely, the head of his cock brushing the sheets as he did. Hannibal allowed a sound of pleasure to escape him, allowed himself to take his time loosening his belt, undoing the buttons of his pants before sliding them down. He stroked himself, lazy and slow, eyes on the pert little ass so willingly offered.

He bent just enough to spit against Will’s hole, silent and slick, and rubbed the tip of his thumb through the mess before gently pushing into the boy.

Will was amazingly responsive. Every whimper, every whine was eagerly given as Hannibal fingered the boy open. He took his time, made sure to properly prepare Will with what they had available. He’d wanted to use proper lube, to press face to face with his sweet boy and make love to him the first time they did this. But how could he turn down such an ardent desire as Will’s was?

When he pulled his fingers free, he leaned in to taste Will again, laughing when Will sobbed and squirmed his little cock down to the bed in desperate rutting.

“Not yet, sweet thing,” Hannibal reminded him, kissing softly over the curve of his ass. “Not until I say.”

“I won’t,” Will whined. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good, Hannibal, please -”

Hannibal pressed in slowly, eyes on Will’s responses to make sure he wasn’t hurting him too terribly, until he was buried entirely in tight wet heat and Will was whimpering beneath him and rocking his hips back against Hannibal’s own.

“Hold still,” Hannibal whispered, kissing behind his ear, against Will’s neck. And then he pulled back.

He fucked Will as Will had told him he imagined it happening; rough and deep and claiming. He pulled Will’s voice from him to echo through the room, out the windows. He angled his hips just enough to rub against Will’s prostate and his sweet boy, his innocent, and lovely boy, came hard onto the blanket with a broken cry.

Hannibal hummed, bending over him, hips still thrusting into Will as he worked him through pleasure right into overstimulation.

“What did I tell you, you terrible thing?” He whispered, slipping a hand down to thread his fingers with Will’s as he clung on and sobbed beneath him, expression one of utter inarguable bliss. “Filthy boy.”

Will’s cock gave another pitiful squirt of release at the words and he arched his back, squeezing harder around Hannibal. “Fill me up,” he groaned. “Hannibal, I want -”

The man stilled behind him, voice a low predatory growl against Will’s throat as he came, pulsing thick into his boy as he held him down. He eased his grip as his own body found pleasure, his kisses against Will’s skin turned loving and soft, nuzzles followed gentle words whispered into Will’s hair, and when he pulled out, Will collapsed onto the bed with a pleased groan, arms stretching lazily out in front of him. 

Will squeezed his thighs together, lifting one foot up as he pressed the toes of the other hard against the floor and rolled his shoulders. When he looked over at Hannibal the man was watching him with a gaze both hungry and adoring. Will wrinkled his nose.

“What?”

“You owe me a perfectly played piano piece,” Hannibal reminded him, doing his pants back up as he let his eyes take in the mess between Will’s legs. “And I owe you a belting you won’t soon forget, for disobeying me.”

Will shivered, sliding down to the floor to sit on his knees as he drew a hand through his hair and chewed the side of his thumb. Hannibal stepped closer and stroked his cheek, allowing Will to nuzzle into his palm.

“I’ll put something on.”

“No,” Hannibal told him, eyes narrowing in pleasure as Will’s cheeks darkened at the word. “As you are.”

Will considered him a moment, smiled a little wider, and blinked in pleasure. Without a word he stood, wincing and biting his lip, and pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s chest until the man petted his hair. And then he went downstairs, a slight limp to his step, a little more confidence, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whiskeyandspite), [Tumblr](http://www.suntosirius.tumblr.com/), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/whiskeyandspite)!


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